


A Rendezvous in the Loo

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bathroom Sex, F/M, Quickies, Swearing, Weight Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-18
Updated: 2014-04-18
Packaged: 2018-01-19 20:39:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1483105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At thirty-seven years old, Hermione Granger-Weasley is a wife and the mother of two very rambunctious children. She’s also fifty pounds overweight, going grey, and thinks sex is something for younger, thinner people with more free time.  Her husband Ron disagrees and intends to show Hermione just how wrong she is, even if he only has a few minutes to do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Rendezvous in the Loo

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Marc.
> 
> Written for the 2014 rhrsmut's "The Missing Years" fest. prompt #14 submitted by shy_of_reality
> 
> All _Harry Potter_ characters/references are property of JK Rowling and associates. No copyright infringement is intended.

Hermione’s grip on her fork tightened as her husband’s Aunt Muriel cast a knowing glance at her plate. She knew what was coming before the woman even opened her mouth. After almost eighteen years of random verbal attacks, Hermione had developed an arsenal of cutting replies to the woman’s passive aggressive digs. To keep the peace, she often refrained from using them. But not always. Turning thirty-seven and having two children had done more than just give Hermione a visible pouch and wider hips; her patience for bullshit had grown considerably low. 

“I see you haven’t lost your appetite, dear. Might I suggest you take it easy on the mashed potatoes. At your age, just looking at carbohydrates will ruin what’s left of your figure.”

_“And if anyone knows about the perils of growing old, I’m sure it’s you,”_ Hermione thought as she tried to muster a polite smile. 

She opened her mouth to deliver her fatal blow, but paused when she felt a strong hand squeeze her thigh underneath the table. She turned her head to glance at her husband, whose apprehensive blue eyes were pleading for her to just let it go. 

“Oh don’t listen to her, Hermione, go ahead and eat up,” Molly Weasley insisted as she pushed a casserole dish towards her daughter-in-law. “A few extra stones never hurt anyone.” 

“I’ll say,” Arthur reassured as he wrapped his arms around his wife and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

Hermione defiantly stuffed a healthy forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth, despite the sudden feeling of self-loathing for her expanding waistline. 

“Mum…mum…” Hugo whined from across the table.

“Yes, darling?”

“Rose keeps pinching me underneath the table.”

“Rose,” Hermione scowled. “Stop touching your brother. As a matter of fact, how about you and Uncle Percy switch places.”

Percy’s mouth dropped open and he looked around like a man in desperate need of a hero, but no one came to his rescue. After an insistent glare from Ron, Percy rose from his seat, pointed Rose to her new chair, and took his seat between the children. 

Hermione exhaled softly, content to have a temporary solution to the on-going Rose-Hugo war that had been raging since Hugo had developed the ability to form complete sentences. 

“Mum!”

“What Rose?” Hermione asked in exasperation. 

“Hugo keeps showing me his food after he chews it all up!”

“Am not!”

“Are too! You just did it while Uncle Percy wasn’t looking.”

“I saw you, Hugo,” Arthur Weasley confirmed, giving his grandson a stern stare.

Hermione tried to keep her voice even, despite her rising frustration. “Hugo, what did we say about table manners?”

“It’s not nice to chew with your mouth open,” the boy mumbled.

“Or show our food after its chewed, got it?”

“Yes, Mum.”

Hermione’s eyes wandered over to Aunt Muriel who was frowning in disdain at both children. When she shook her head and looked back at Hermione with a reproachful gaze, Hermione felt something inside her snap. 

“Mum!” Rose whined.

But Hermione could hardly respond to her daughter. Suddenly, the table seemed too crowded, and the air stuffy. Hermione had to gasp for breath as she choked out a hasty, “Excuse me, I have to go to the loo. Be right back.”

She stood up abruptly and turned to make her way to the bathroom furthest away from the dining room, trying not to bolt from table.

When she reached the bathroom, she closed the door, locked it, and plopped down on the seat of the commode as she attempted to regain her composure. 

As she stared at the black and white tiled floor, she took deep breaths. The Sunday dinner at the Burrow always sounded lovely in theory. It gave Hermione a break from having to worry about fixing dinner, and a chance to catch up with Harry and Ginny, but lately, it had become anything but a peaceful excursion. 

She closed her eyes and let her head fall into her hands just before a rapid string of knocks exploded on the door. 

“Mum! Mum! Are you in there?”

Hermione did not respond. Instead, she dropped her head into her lap and wrapped her hands around her ankles, determined to wait her daughter out. 

But the knock on the door was insistent, and there wasn’t any indication it would let up anytime soon.

“Muuuum!!”

“Yes, Rose?!” Hermione finally replied. “Is everything all right?” 

“No. Hugo keeps flicking peas at me!” 

“You tell Hugo I said to stop it, or he’s going to regret it for a very long time.”

“OK!”

Hermione exhaled and stood up, her eyes fixed on the bathroom door. She wasn’t ready to go back out there. At least here in the bathroom, she had space, a little peace and quiet, and, best of all, she didn’t have to suck her gut in. Her eyes wandered down to the dreaded pot belly Aunt Muriel had referred to. It almost appeared to be a sentient thing of its own, and Hermione briefly imagined it to be quite angry with her for trying to suppress it. It seemed to be struggling to climb out of her very non-fashionable mummy denims. She ran her hands over her stomach, frowning. 

Slowly she turned to her side to study her profile in the mirror. Her eyes fixed on the unsightly protrusion hanging just below her breasts, which weren’t nearly as perky as they used to be. 

She jumped when the door shook. More knocking, this time much harder. 

“Mum!” Hugo cried.

Hermione fell back against the wall, and closed her eyes and began to count. “One… two…three…”

The knocking continued and then the handle began to rattle as if to emphasise Hugo’s urgency. 

“Mum!”

“What?” Hermione gritted out.

“Rose said she put some of Uncle George’s puking pastels in my mashed potatoes.”

“Do you feel sick?” 

“No…”

Hermione sighed. “Then she’s probably just pulling your leg, Hugo. Just ignore her and eat your dinner.”

“OK.”

“And stop flicking peas at your sister!” she called 

Hermione listened as the patter of feet faded away. She heard a loud crash in the living room, and Molly’s surprised cry, and more bickering in voices that sounded distinctively like Rose and Hugo’s. 

Weariness settled over Hermione as she looked back at her reflection once more. New crow’s feet were now apparent around her eyes, and her hair glamours were already fading in the front. If she squinted hard enough, she could see a few strands of grey shining through. 

The youthful face Hermione had only just begun to accept after leaving school was now gone. In her opinion, it had been replaced by a much older, fuller, and less attractive reflection. It was no wonder she and Ron rarely had sex these days. 

The stinging prick of tears in the corner of her eyes caught her by surprise and she inhaled a shaky breath as she tried to contain them. 

As she listened to the chaos beyond the walls, self-loathing and despair rose up like bile. So when the knocking at the bathroom door began again, she didn’t hesitate to reply.

“WHAT?”

“Hermione? Are you all right in there?” It was Ron.

Hermione tapped her head against the wall as she stared up at the ceiling. She was tired, cranky, and apparently rather depressed if the tears were any indication.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Can I come in?” Ron asked, his voice was full of frustration and something that sounded a lot like desperation.

Hermione stared down at the doorknob for a moment, considering her reply. She really didn’t feel like being interrogated or discussing a new strategy for keeping Rose and Hugo in line, but she couldn’t very well hide out in the loo forever. 

She sighed in resignation as she wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to gain her composure. 

As soon as she unlocked the door, Ron rushed in like a man being chased by giant spiders.

Hermione watched in bemusement as her husband shut the door quickly and lock it. His face was flushed, and his eyes were wide.

“Ron, what’s going on? Is everything all right out there?”

Ron closed his eyes, exhaled and fell back against the bathroom door. “We need take a holiday.”

Hermione cracked a small smile and shook her head. “Do you really think Rose and Hugo will be any better on a holiday? It would be a nightmare.”

Ron slowly opened his eyes as he considered his wife. “I’m talking about a holiday for us. We can leave them here, with Mum and Dad.”

Hermione sighed and wrapped her arms around herself. “No… Not yet. They’re too young. Maybe in a few years, perhaps after Rose goes off to Hogwarts.”

Ron nodded slowly, watching her. “What were you doing in here?”

Hermione shrugged. “Taking a break, I suppose.”

“From the kids?”

“From everyone,” she said wearily. 

Ron straightened and closed the gap between them, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. “I’m sorry about my aunt. Sometimes she can be a real bitch.”

Hermione gasped to hear him say such as thing. Ron shrugged. “It’s nothing personal. It’s just her disposition. I mean don’t get me wrong, I love her. I just don’t like her very much.”

Hermione buried her face into her husband’s chest, trying to quell the torrent of emotions threatening to push tears into her eyes once again. 

“You know you’re beautiful, right?” Ron whispered.

Hermione chuckled. “You don’t have to butter me up. I’m told you I’m fine.” 

Ron ran a hand over Hermione’s hair, pulling her head back so that she had to look into his eyes. 

“I’m not buttering you up. I’m telling you, I think you’re beautiful, and every day I feel so damn lucky you’re my wife.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron, I know you’re not blind. Everyone can see I’m fifty pounds heavier than I was when we got married.”

Ron shrugged. “So? More for me to love,” he said as one of his right hand snaked down to her arse.

Hermione cracked a smile in spite of herself.

“What?” he asked, squeezing her again and pulling her close against his body.

“Ron!” She swatted at his chest. “We’re in the loo!”

“Yeah, we are,” he said with a big grin. “How long do you think we have before we really have to leave?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “Are you proposing what I think you’re proposing?”

A slow cheeky grin spread on Ron’s face.

“Ron, I don’t think-“

“Look,” Ron said, motioning his head towards the sink. Hermione turned her head to see what he was looking at. Ron grabbed a large red candle sitting in the corner near the mirror. “Dad put Muggle candles in every room. How about we…. dim the light,” he said as he crossed the small room to completely close the mini-blinds covering the small window near the shower. “And …put on a candle.” 

He drew his wand and whispering a soft _Incendio_ to light the candle sitting on the commode. The soft candlelight lit Ron’s face like the glow of dusk against the sky. His smooth freckled skin looked sun-kissed, the auburn highlights in his hair shone, and the flicker of the flame danced in his eyes. Hermione momentarily forgot where she was as she stared back at him. 

Ron took a quick glance at his wrist watch, and gave her a cheeky smirk. “How long do you think we have?”

She sighed, still in doubt. “I think as soon as we start, someone’s going to knock.”

Ron shrugged. “So let them knock.” 

He reached out, grabbed her around the waist and pulled her flush against his body. The scent of Bergamot, citrus, basil, and mint drifted into her nose, and she couldn’t resist rubbing her nose to sniff him again.

Before Hermione could protest, his mouth was covering hers and his body was pressing into hers. His mouth was hot, and his tongue was insistent as it pried her lips apart and wrapped around her own. Ron’s grip in her hair tightened as he backed her up against the bathroom sink and began to rub his prominent erection against her. Hermione moaned into his mouth and clawed at his shirt as the sudden need to feel his skin against hers struck. 

As if reading her mind, Ron reached down with his free hand and pulled up her jumper. Hermione gasped as Ron squeezed her breasts together and dipped his face in her cleavage , covering her skin with wet, hungry kisses.

“Mmm,” she murmured as he pulled down her bra, releasing her so he could tease one nipple with his tongue.

“Ron,” she whispered as he began to suck. It sent an instant jolt to her clit, and she couldn’t contain a small moan from escaping.

Hermione placed her hands on his shoulders as Ron’s hands dropped to her denims. He made quick work of pulling them down, bringing her knickers with them to the floor. She started to bend down to help him out when he stooped down and completed the task for her. Hermione bit her lip as Ron’s large hands slid up her thighs and her waist to trace her curves. She blushed, suddenly self-conscious of the pouch she took great strides to hide from the rest of the world. Instinctively, she tried to suck in to make her abdomen look more attractive, but found it hard to hold her breath when Ron squeezed and buried his face into her navel.

She looked down at him, brow furrowed in curiousity. “Ron, what are you−“

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful, Hermione. Why have you been hiding from me?” he said, rubbing his face over her belly as his hands slid down and squeezed her hips.

Hermione opened her mouth, but nothing came out as surprise, relief, and gratitude rendered her speechless. 

“I want to see you. Everything. Spread yourself wider for me,” Ron ordered as he pulled back to stare up at her. 

Hermione stared down into his eyes as she tried to spread her legs farther apart. But it wasn’t exactly comfortable or easy from a leaning position against the sink.

Ron rose from the floor to stand, grabbing her waist to hoist her in the air as he did. Hermione held in a squeak as she felt herself being positioned in a sitting position on the sink counter. Her mouth fell open as her husband took hold of her thighs and pushed her legs back and open as wide as they would go. 

In the next second, Ron’s face was between her legs and his hot breath on her clit. She stared down at his head with wide disbelieving eyes as he fell to his knees and gave her cunt a lick with his hot, wet tongue. She braced herself on the porcelain sink top as he dove in, his expert tongue snaking inside of her and curling like a kitten lapping milk. Hermione whimpered as he continued, one hand gripping his shoulder, and the other his hair. 

She closed her eyes and forgot herself for a moment as a moan escaped her lips. The sound of her own pleasure brought her back to reality, and she folded her lips in, trying to create a prison to contain any future moans. But it was no use, Ron was on a mission and Hermione had to grit her teeth as he began to suck and lick her like he often did his fingers after eating treacle tart.

“Oh!” she whispered as she felt a throbbing sensation building. Hermione legs quivered and pushed against her husband’s hands even as he tried to hold them steady. 

“Ron…Ron,” she moaned, one hand twisting in his hair to urge him on.

She was so close, so damn close. 

“I’m coming,” she gasped. “I’m co−”

Knock. Knock. 

“Mum!”

Ron’s tongue stilled and Hermione stopped squirming and opened her eyes to stare at the rattling door.

“Mum! Are you still in there?”

Hermione looked down and found her husband staring back with his ‘oh-shit-they-really-did-come-knocking’ blue eyes. The corners of her mouth twitched as she tried to contain an ‘I-told-you-so’ smirk. 

“Yes, darling?” she called.

“Grandma wants to know if you’re OK?”

“Yes, Rose. I’m fine. Tell grandma I just feel a little sick. I’ll be out soon though.”

“OK,” Rose called.

As she listened to her daughter’s footsteps fall away, Hermione sighed in disappointment. She’d been so close to orgasm. She tried pushing her legs down against her husband’s hands to signal the end of their interlude, but evidently, Ron had other plans. 

And he also knew his wife quite well. 

Before Hermione could scowl or attempt to scold him, Ron gave her thighs a stubborn squeeze and picked up where he left off. As his greedy mouth fell onto her cunt once more, Hermione shook her head as the insanity of his insistence to finish. Within seconds, she was lost in pleasure again, silently gasping and writhing against Ron’s mouth as the pressure of her approaching orgasm began to build.

Knock. Knock.

Hermione kept her eyes shut and continued grinding against Ron’s diligent mouth. 

Knock. Knock.

“Hermione, are you all right, dear?” Molly Weasley called. 

“Yes!” Hermione tried to call back in a steady enthusiastic voice. It sounded much too cheery, even to her ears. 

“Do you need anything?”

“Nooo!”

Hermione fisted her hand in her husband’s hair as he began a steady assault of his tongue on her clit.

“Oh, all right. Just give me a shout if you do, all right?”

“Yes! Thank you!”

Hermione bit her lip hard as Ron began to suck, apparently set in his mission to make her come, and come hard. 

“Oh Hermione dear,” Molly called once more. 

Hermione shook her head furiously, unable to speak as a moan rose in her throat.

“Mmmm?” was all she could manage.

“I know you’ve been stuck in the loo, but by chance, did Ron drop by and tell you he was going somewhere?”

“Unh-unh.”

“Oh, all right. Don’t worry. I’ll find him. You just take your time in there,” Molly called.

Hermione clenched her eyes and bucked as the tide of her orgasm rose up like wave set to crash. At that very moment, Ron pulled back.

Hermione gasped. “What are you doing?”

“I wanna come too,” Ron whispered, undoing the first two buttons of his trousers. He pushed them down, releasing his hard cock. It was leaking pre-come, and jutted out beautifully from his red pubic hair. Hermione licked her lips and reached out to pull on it, urging him to take her quickly.

His lips crashed onto hers as he entered her wet heat. Hermione wrapped her legs around her husband’s back as he fucked her with deep hard strokes that left her panting and unable to form a coherent word.

“Come for me, Hermione. I wanna feel you come on my cock,” he whispered, palming her arse to hold her steady as he continued.

Hermione’s mouth dropped open but no sound came out. It was hard to breathe. The pressure was back and Hermione could feel it spreading through her body like an electric current. She dug her nails into Ron’s arms and squeezed her legs tighter around his arse, preparing to unravel.

Knock. Knock. 

“Mum? You still in there?”

Hermione’s eyes went wide as Ron’s hand covered her mouth and he replied. “No. I’m in here, Hugo.”

“Dad? Grandma is looking for you. Where’s mum?”

“I’m not sure, maybe she went out back? I’ll be out in a bit. OK?” 

“Dad, are you all right? You sound funny.”

“Yeah, just go back in the dining room, K? Be right out.”

“OK.”

Hermione moaned against Ron’s hand and pushed back as his thrusts became erratic and desperate. 

“Gonna come,” he whispered. “Come with me.”

Hermione nodded emphatically and twisted her hips as Ron delivered three final strokes that sent her over the cliff. She went rigid as the pressure exploded and shook her. Ron gripped her arse hard and stilled, groaning softly in her ear as his own orgasm arrived. 

They stayed like that for about a minute, holding each other tight and listening to their heartbeats returning back to normal. Finally, Ron pulled back to gaze at his wife.

“Bloody hell, woman. I love you.” 

Hermione smiled and reached up to brush his damp hair from his forehead. “I love you too, Ron.” 

“So… how are we going to explain this when we go back out there?” he asked as he disentangled himself and began to dress.

Hermione raised one eyebrow. “ _Now_ you’re worried about explanations?”

Ron sniggered and watched as she pulled her bra back into place.

Hermione found herself blushing under his gaze as self-consciousness and shame flared up once more. She rushed to pull her jumper down, when Ron seized her wrists and held them up. 

“I love your body, Hermione. Stop hiding it from me. I want to see more of you, more often, yeah?”

Hermione’s exhaled and nodded as the tingly feeling of having someone’s unconditional love warmed her like the sun breaking through the clouds on an overcast day.

“All right, but only on one condition,” she said.

Ron let go of her wrists. “You name it. What?”

Hermione reached up to wrap her arms around Ron’s neck, as she gave him cheeky smile, “You have to promise that our next sexy rendezvous will be somewhere more practical. Like the bedroom.”


End file.
